Melody of the Stars
by Red Cloud Phoenix
Summary: Elrond has some news to tell Thranduil. How will Thranduil react?
1. Eyes of Emerald

Chapter One

"Above all, my son, you are an Elf Warrior, descending from an ancient line of fighters. You will one day ride gloriously into some chaotic battlefield the same way as I have in the days of my youth. The battlefield is my domain no longer- it now belongs to you. For you, my son, you alone possess the power to wield my bow. I pass it on to you, as my time has ended. My son, you are the new hope of the Woodland Realm."

The King gaped with great curiosity into the prince's eyes. The eyes were yet undeveloped, but somewhere within the star he thought he could make out two bright emerald stones. Emerald stones which, although hazy, captivated the King nonetheless. He liked to think that that was where the prince's eyes were going to be, where the two emeralds were situated. The thought humored him.

"You go too far, Thranduil." A She-Elf giggled behind him; she too was lost in the wonder of the illuminated star before them. "You speak to it as if it can already hear you. You speak as if many years have passed and the child is fully grown."

"The day will come, my sweet Celabeth. We both know that it will," Thranduil replied. There was movement within the star, a constant source of amazement for the King. The new being was growing, although not as quickly as Thranduil wished. The star never ceased to mesmerize him; this new beam of light held within it also the most precious string of life- a being whose blood was that of Thranduil's. It was hard to picture now, and yet he could see it so clearly, the life of the child unwinding in front of him. He would cradle his child, as if there was no other existing care in the world, hold it tightly against his breast and sing him ancient lullabies. He would let him rest on his lap for endless nights…he would protect him.

"I like speaking to him. I feel like telling him stories already, dear Celabeth. Oh, how I wish to teach him! I want to teach him so many things..." The King averted his gaze from the shaft of light, fixing them adoringly on his wife. Queen Celabeth took her King's hands and squeezed them. She remembered so well, the first time Thranduil had mentioned the joy of begetting a child together. And now they had been gifted with this blessing. "There will be plenty of time, Thranduil, to teach him all that we can," she said, smiling warmly at him. Her smile vanished, replaced by a frown when she noticed that the King's eyes were downcast.

"Tell me, what troubles you so?" Lady Celabeth lifted his chin to let him know that he was not alone.

"Nothing. It's just…"

Thranduil closed his eyes. The vision of his child came to him again, more lucidly than ever. He saw that he was simply beautiful, nothing more, nothing less.

"I want him to love me," he whispered, yet Celabeth could hear him. "I would like him to love me, as much as I'll love him. I already love him, Celabeth. With each passing day, I think more about when he will arrive."

Celabeth softly laughed. "My Lord, you show too much impatience. He will arrive before we know it." The Lady of the Woodland Realm stroked his silky mane, looking on in admiration.

Much to the Lady's concern, Thranduil sighed, sending a wisp of air from his mouth into the chilly evening air. "I… I am not great, lovely Celabeth. I want for our child to grow into a stronger one than I…" There he was stopped, interrupted by his Lady with her finger against his lips forbidding further talk.

"If you are speaking of the Battle at Mount Doom so many years ago, I want you to weep no longer. You had no control over the fates of those who fell. You know this. You are wallowing in your guilt," the Lady assured.

At this, the tranquil King's tone slightly went up. "I stood watching as my comrades fell on the slopes of Mount Doom. I heard their cries, yet I fled for my own life. I did nothing. Like a coward I fled. Middle-earth needs brave, courageous fighters. Our child… our child is the future, Celabeth…"

His voice trailed off into the night air. Afraid that he had disturbed his Lady with his ramblings, he embraced her and comforted her, and all talk of the past was forgotten in that present moment. He sang to her, sang to her the Melody of the Stars, folk songs of their people. Without speaking, Celabeth looked deep into her King's eyes. _Do not be afraid. _Her eyes said. _There is no need to worry. You are the great King of the Woodland Realm, and soon you will make a good father. _

To assure him that no more would be said about it, she added, _It was not your fault. Forget the past. You have proven your valor to me, and all of Mirkwood._

Thranduil nodded, his soul now not so heavy. "You keep calling our child a prince," the Lady mused. "Are you so sure that he is one? We may as well be having a princess; it is too early to tell yet."

"Yes, I am quite certain, Celabeth. Some things, I have just grown to trust. And yes, our child will be a prince," Thranduil said with satisfaction. "A handsome, healthy prince with your lovely eyes." He tenderly put his arms around his wife, burying his face in her hair. He only wanted to tell her how overjoyed he was, how thankful he was to his wife for all that she had been to him, for being the mother of his child. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. But at that precise moment, there seemed to be no words good enough to express it.


	2. Two Thranduils

Chapter Two

_Moonlight bathed the gardens of Lothlorien, and the trees were glowing with the miracles that hung from their branches. Daylight had long passed, yet a certain Elf still wandered these gardens at nightfall. The light resting on the tops of the trees would guide him. And so he was not afraid._

_Thranduil was searching for the Tree of Green Leaves; he had come upon it before, and he was certain he would find it again. The Tree of Green Leaves was quite simple to spot, as it reminded one of an everlasting summer. Its trunk was wide and thick with white bark, the crevices under which living things were teeming ceaselessly- Thranduil remembered. From its firm, aged trunk sprouted hundreds of sturdy branches with the greenest of leaves attached to them. It was a bewitched tree; its roots absorbed water from the river that flowed underneath it, and some said that this water is what enabled the tree to bear life- new generations of Elves._

_As Thranduil promenaded on light feet, he came to a clearing in the gardens. There, in the distance, he could make out a majestic tree, which was indubitably the one that bore a precious fruit. He beamed at the twinkling stars nestling on top of the tree- Elves in their first stage of life in this world. Ambling as quickly as possible, only one thought pervaded his mind: he was going to visit his son again._

_Yes, a son! This time he was surer than he had ever been that he would have a male heir; every time he thought of the child to come he always envisioned a son. Every day he was closer to holding this son, a being that he and his wife had created through their love. Thranduil, having come under the tree, saw the star immediately- he grinned at the maturing young Elf, already beginning to take visible form. He gazed at it in awe; the radiance was enough to blind the eyes of a Man. It wouldn't be long now, before he could hold his child, for whom he already felt a burst of love. _

_"How you've grown, little one!" Thranduil exclaimed. _

_As if in answer, the child seemed to move slightly. And it still possessed those two, emerald-green eyes, glowing ever so strongly in the darkness. Blinking now, it seemed to examine Thranduil, this stranger which it recognized from previous nights. Who could this possibly be? _

_Before Thranduil could move another muscle, he was alarmed by the sound of horns._

_What... Thranduil muttered under his breath, but he couldn't hear himself say anything. A wave of panic came over him- what was happening? The child- where was his child? _

_Frantically, he looked back and searched the star in which his child had been enveloped. Where there had been a beautiful garden, there was nothing but mounds of earth. The Tree-the star-his child, and all the other growing Elves- were nowhere to be seen. An angry cry surely escaped his mouth then, but all other sound was overridden by the sound of horns. As if Thranduil's heart wasn't heavy enough, more weight was thrown onto it as he witnessed the transition of the land in front of him. _

_Peaceful fields were replaced by innumerable armies, each marching in a monotonous manner. Their war-cries drowned out the sounds of all other existence. Accompanied by nameless, ugly beasts, they all shouted orders in an incomprehensible language vulgar enough for one's ears to bleed. All Thranduil could now see was the gray sky looming above him like the arrival of doomsday, and he heard the beginnings of conflict. _

_It was all too much for him. He had closed his eyes just in time, in time to avoid the agonizing sights of soldiers dying beside their horses. He smelled the stench of blood, of only death, and he wondered if the world was going to end. The angry voices of others seemed to wipe out all that was good and pure in the world, and Thranduil dared not see it all. _

_This is a nightmare, he thought. But would it ever end? For what seemed like an entire eon, the fight continued. Perhaps he didn't realize when it had ended. His ears had been poisoned with so much grief that when there was silence, he heard a strange ringing. Eventually, he recognized the cry of eagles, who had come to extinguish all madness. _

_And then, when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, when all his hopes had gone along with the ashes in the wind, the eagles began to sing the most angelic of songs. He knew it was safe to open his eyes again. _

_Much to his relief, the eagles had arrived! They were summoning innocence and goodness to return. From their beaks, tiny trinkets came forth. From afar, Thranduil could only see the shimmer of them all, something golden, something silver. At last, they dropped some emeralds in the King's lap. _

_Thranduil hadn't thanked the eagles when everything began to fade. The field, the dead bodies, the reminder of evil... all these things seemed as if it was being sucked away by the wind, the wind that frolicked endlessly among the blades of grass..._

"Thranduil, is something wrong?" Next to him came a familiar voice.

It was to this soothing voice Thranduil awoke, his entire body nearly drenched in sweat. It wasn't until his wife kissed him and sang to him that he finally began to relax. He had been trembling out of control, weeping bitterly in his wife's arms. She hushed him, assuring him that it was all a terrible dream.

"The Tree...it was gone...our child...our child..." Thranduil sputtered nonsense. The Queen smiled. "If anything were to go wrong with our child, I would feel it. It is still resting peacefully, Thranduil. Must you still wallow in your past?"

"I don't understand, Celabeth," he said, when he managed to calm down.

"You had this dream, because your past is haunting you. You are afraid that our child may acquire your qualities, what you don't like about yourself. You fear that he might desert his friends, not come to their aid when their need is dire. But tell me, did you flee in your dream?"

Thranduil lay deep in thought. He at last shook his head. "No," he replied. "I don't recall running away."

"Thranduil!" Queen Celabeth wiped her husband's tears. "It was not you in the dream. You weren't reliving your past. Rather, I'd think that our _son-" _she emphasized the word- "was the one you saw. He may as well be the spitting image of you, yes, but that doesn't mean that he cannot be his own self. You must remember that, Thranduil."

"Oh, Celabeth..." The King was at a loss for words. "I...I think I already love him too much," he commented with a chuckle. "I wonder if he'll like archery as much as I do?"

"I don't even slightly doubt it," Celabeth replied, laughing as well. "Soon I'll have _two_ Thranduils running around, two restless ones to look after!"

"What! Am I too much for you?" The King asked with sarcasm.

"But you're never more than I can handle," she laughed again. "But with our child, it may be harder. Our child will be a strong one, if he's to take after his father."

Thranduil kissed his wife and said: "But he must be even-tempered, like you. That way we'll both get some sleep at night."

"Yes, Thranduil. Let's get some sleep while we still can, shall we? You look exhausted."

"I won't move my lids before you tell me something," he said with a hint of mockery.

"I love you, Thranduil of Mirkwood," said Celabeth, quite sleepily. She was falling asleep.

Thranduil whispered, yet said it loud enough so that she could hear: "And I love you, Celabeth of Rivendell. I love you more and more every day."

For a moment, Thranduil remembered fondly of the day when he had first met Celabeth. Since that day, he had only felt an undying passion for her.

And so the both of them let sleep take them into the land of dreams; for Thranduil, a land of sweeter dreams.


	3. The Light of Eaerendil

Chapter Three

Lady Celabeth and King Thranduil were in the gardens of Lothlorien for the umpteenth time. It had been a favorite place to visit for Celabeth even in the earlier years of their union, and it now remained a kind of paradisiacal haven for them both. Thranduil, who hadn't been appreciative of the gardens at first, had grown to love it eventually, after long walks with Celabeth. He only loved it because she did; because he felt that all the plants that were rooted in these gardens belonged to her.

How terribly excited he was, that it was within these gardens that they would witness the birth of their child. _At nightfall, _Elrond had foretold, _you will see that the star bearing your child has vanished. Do not despair- it needs to receive its blessings from the Star of Eaerendil first. Therefore it will into the sky away from your sight. Be patient, and a shooting star will arrive at your feet. Celabeth will need to endure great pain on this night. It is on the day of its birth that the Elf receives a part of his mother. A part of her soul and a bit of her strength. The transition from mother to child will require pain. Celabeth's very soul will be torn, which, as you know, means agonizing pain for an Elf. You must stand by her, noble Thranduil. You must make sure that she survives. If there is not enough support, Celabeth will be in danger of losing too much energy…should this happen, only you can save her. The light the star will be blinding, but do not turn away from it. Instead, embrace it with open arms. In the first few hours of birth, a newborn Elf is weak; it needs the guidance of its parents. Welcome the child into the world with warmth and love so that it can begin its life on firm ground. If you do not do as I ask you, if you refuse the Light of Eaerendil, you will lose your child. The birth of a new Elf is a rarity. When it does happen, we must do all that we can to ensure its health and safety. _

"I'm nervous, Thranduil," Celabeth said with a shaky grin.

Thranduil clasped his wife's hand. "What is so strong, what Light is so blinding, that we cannot face it together? My beloved, you know that I am here for you." Thranduil gave her a confident smile this time, in doing so getting rid of his own fears. Celabeth smiled back at him. This night, this place, this atmosphere… it all looked so familiar to Thranduil…

"Do you remember when we first met?" she whispered, in such a way that made Thranduil shiver.

"How can I ever forget?" He answered, guarding her from the evening chill by lifting up her hood over her head. "You were like a sorceress, enchanting me with your singing."

"When you came my heart was never the same. So often all I wanted was to run away somewhere, be as free as the notes in the songs of my people… but when you came to me, all I wanted was to stay there…" saying this, she placed a warm hand on her husband's chest.

Thranduil stared long and deep into Celabeth's eyes, and for a moment, it was almost as if they were meeting for the very first time. She was glowing like an angel tonight, as she always did. She never stopped being amazing.

"You are everything I could have wanted, and so much more, my love. You set me _free_." Thranduil held her face between his hands, drawing her closer to him. Their lips touched.

The King opened his lips, inviting her to a passionate kiss they alone could share. She hung on tightly to him, her eyes gently closed in bliss. He felt as if his lips were stuck onto hers, and he only wanted to stay like that longer, even when he couldn't breathe…

Yet he didn't want to let go. At long last, they broke away, gasping desperately for air. Oh, how he was reminded of days past, when they were a bit younger and life experiences had not affected their complexions.

Suddenly, he saw a light from the corner of his eye. "Celabeth, look!" Thranduil turned towards the night sky glittered with stars, his eyes fixed on the one shooting star, slowly making its way onto the ground. He did not forget Elrond's words for a moment. The star was coming whether he was ready or not; he had to prepare himself for what was to come. He placed two hands on his wife's shoulders for reassurance. It was really happening now, what they had been waiting for for so long...

"Cela...Celabeth?" Thranduil stammered, feeling his wife go limp in his embrace. She collapsed in his arms. Her hands were cold to the touch, and Thranduil was at a loss at what to do. But her hands had not lost its grip. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Strength, my beloved; strength," he murmured, offering what warmth he could through his cloak_. Please, Celabeth, you cannot falter now_, he thought. He could slowly feel his heart sink at the mere thought of what Elrond had told him.

He shook his head to rid himself of those horrid thoughts. She was still here, and the star was getting closer. Twinkling above him, the star shot out a hot ray of light. Yes, it was almost blinding, but it was the most incredible sight Thranduil had seen in his life. Awestruck, he gazed at it, his eyes fixed on the illuminated being within, never allowing his eyes to dart anywhere else. He was fighting the light- it was extremely painful for his eyes- but he knew he could not give up now.

_The light the star will be blinding, but do not turn away from it. Instead, embrace it with open arms. _

And to that he kept. Holding Celabeth tighter than ever, he spread his cloak on the grass for the star to land on. Celabeth was tossing and turning in his embrace in silent pain; Thranduil felt it all, but he knew it was most important to keep her close. He tried his best to calm her. The moment the star had contact with the cloak he heard a slight fizzing sound. The star was burning, melting. Tiny shards of it broke off like debris. Within seconds, the thick star casing revealed a most extraordinary sight.

Having hatched out of its shell, the tiny Elf squirmed on the cloak. It glanced up at Thranduil with innocent curiosity. It made a whining sound, which stirred Thranduil a bit; he quickly hushed him. The King gave the child a wide smile; yes, it was a son. He had known all along. "Hush, little one. Quiet, now. I'm not going to hurt you." Thranduil wrapped his son in his cloak, making sure that he did not feel the evening chill. Even with his nimble fingers, he was extra careful when holding his son. He seemed so fragile. He lifted the child for Celabeth to see. She was conscious, although her eyes were half closed.

"Celabeth! This is our son," Thranduil announced, holding him out for his wife to hold. "Will you not look at him? It is all over now. We have a son, Celabeth!" Tears came to Thranduil's eyes as his wife struggled a bit to sit up. He quickly lent her his arm on her back for support.

Exhausted yet overjoyed, the Queen smiled. "He's beautiful, Thranduil. His eyes are like deep oceans." She cradled the child, humming incomplete versions of lullabies. The Melody of the Stars. Thranduil and Celabeth looked on together for a long, gracious moment, watching their son fall asleep under the moonlight.

"What should we name him?" Celabeth asked. "What name is suitable for an honorable heir of Mirkwood?"

"You must name him, Celabeth. Go on."

She contemplated for a bit, and said, "His shall be called Legolas Greenleaf, from the Tree in which he grew and lived before his birth."

"Legolas?" Thranduil said. "Legolas." He repeated, letting the word roll on his tongue. "It is a fine name, and very well does it suit the heir of the Woodland Realm. Yes, then he shall be Legolas, son of Thranduil and Celabeth, Prince of the Woodland Realm in the years to come," Thranduil declared.

"Legolas," Celabeth muttered again.

Thranduil wrapped his arms around his wife and child; they were now a true family. He vowed to himself that day that he wouldn't let anything come between them. Never.


	4. A Father's Embrace

Chapter Four

For a long while the King of Mirkwood kneeled alongside his Lady, allowing her to rest on his slender but firm torso. With one hand he held onto her heart-shaped head, and in the other his son was fast asleep. He marveled at the sight of them, his family. Not all the jewels in the deep caves of Middle-earth could exceed the value of his wife and son, what they meant to him, and he wouldn't trade them for the world.

"My Legolas," murmured Thranduil, brushing his little forehead with a thumb. "A perfectly regal name," he commented to his wife. The King grinned, kissing her hungrily on the lips, softly so as to not disturb her.

Thranduil then let out a gasp, immediately sensing that something was amiss with his wife. Her lips were cold and dry. In his embrace she felt limp, brittle, and lifeless. And, although Thranduil refused to believe it at first, she wasn't responding to him at all. Celabeth was not one to ignore, certainly not on a day like this…

Without any further hesitation, he whistled for his horse and leaped onto the saddle as soon as his companion came trotting along, having a firm grip on both his wife and son. He sat in an upright position, well poised despite being without reigns.

"Lady Celabeth is ill. We must escort her to Rivendell." Caradhras started a mighty gallop, and soon they were off into the night. He had always ridden without reigns; his Caradhras was a horse to be freed of them. For numerous years it was Caradhras who had transported him on excursions, not once disappointing his master. And so he was not the least bit frightened.

_Hold on, love. Hold on for me._

_333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333_

_At the House of Elrond _

Elrond placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying his best to make him calm again. He had never seen the King of Mirkwood so distraught with grief, and, he had to admit, it was making him anxious. Upon the King's arrival, the Queen had been taken into Elrond's care right away to ensure swift attention. Elrond had been quick to tend to her. It took so much for Thranduil to be kept on the patio outside; Elrond found the King and Queen of Mirkwood to be absolutely inseparable.

Now, after what seemed to Thranduil like a torturous hour, Elrond was finally here to give him news. Elrond found him pacing maniacally, the thought of sitting down not having once crossed his mind. Upon Elrond's request, Thranduil slumped onto a chair beside him, his shoulders hunched in fatigue. A slight tinge of apprehension permeated Elrond's body, as he was mindful of the tiny Prince seeming to be attached to his father naturally. Having only Thranduil to depend on, the cold world was no refuge for a youngster his size…

Much to Elrond's relief, Thranduil held the child secured in his cloak- he was sleeping tranquilly. Elrond smiled inwardly at Thranduil's all too evident fatherly instincts, his eyes darting from King to Prince, seeing a distinct resemblance. _He is the identical image of his father, this one. _Possibly feeling the presence of a newcomer, the child began to stir. Peeking, closing his eyes again. _But those eyes! How luminous and unusual they are. _

"His name is Legolas." Thranduil didn't look up when he spoke, exhaustion weighing down on his voice.

"It is a fine name," Elrond replied. A momentary silence ensued, which Elrond broke: "He sleeps so soundly."

"He deserves to be in the softer hands of his mother, not mine," Thranduil sighed. "My hands have become rough from unnecessary war."

_So he still carries the scars of his past. He cannot accept it. More importantly, he cannot forgive himself. _

"Your words make me gloomy, my friend. You, too, deserve the love of your son. The war is your history, not all that you are." Elrond tried to give him a reassuring nod, but the melancholy would not be lifted from Thranduil's face.

"You fought bravely by my side, Thranduil. What more can we ask for? We're not always in control of the fates of our fallen comrades." Still no response.

"And I'd think that you'd like to know what a wonderful father I think you already are. Look at your son," said Elrond, a bit commandingly.

Thranduil reacted at last. His child was stirring again; he stared with delight into his son's eyes. Legolas gave a wail, which Thranduil was quick to hush. Elrond then was reminded of his own two sons, who were probably in bed by now.

A heavy puff of air escaped Elrond's mouth. "Legolas will need you for some time. You must take good care of him, for Celabeth is in no condition to…"

Elrond was interrupted by a sudden uproar.

"Celabeth- how is she, Elrond? Please, my son doesn't even know her yet; he's only just been born… You must tell me that she will live!" Elrond gestured for him to sit down.

Calmly: "Please do not jump to conclusions, Thranduil. I haven't verified or denied anything. It seems that she has lost her conscience, and she's wandering in delirium. I'm going to have to stay beside her for the rest of the night. We must give her more time. I cannot tell you anything yet." Thranduil's shoulders sagged down a little as he leaned back against the chair. He closed his eyes, feeling for the first time in months how the air was cool against his face.

"When can I see her?" Thranduil held in a sob. Elrond told him that she should be awake by morning, and that they couldn't afford to disturb her before then. Thranduil seemed to be deep in thought, absorbing all of this in at one time. How he wished to be beside her, comfort her, heal her pain. Make everything better again.

_The King of Mirkwood is tired, let him rest. Now is not the time to tell him anything drastic. _

"Thranduil, you must be strong. For Celabeth. For your son." Saying this, he stroked the Prince's brow. "He has only you for the time being. Therefore you must act as a mother and a father."

Thranduil frowned, his expression too complicated to fathom.

"I don't deserve him," Thranduil whispered suddenly, much to Elrond's surprise. "His mother is ill, and I can do nothing."

"Thranduil! I will hear no more of it! That is quite enough. Do you not see that your child is listening?" He motioned for Thranduil to hand over the Prince, and Elrond received him gently. "We mustn't wake him with this talk. As he sleeps, his body is growing. One day, with your splendid care, he will grow into a fierce warrior of the wood. But he is too young now. Accept him. Nurture him. Love him. _He needs you."_

Elrond lifted the child in one sweeping motion. "He is your blood." Humming to him an ancient melody that granted a night's sleep, he inquired, "Will you not take him?"

"I will," Thranduil declared. "And I will make sure I am worthy of his love."

"I do not doubt that you will, my friend. We are not able to know all that lies in his path, but we can hope the best for him."

Kissing his son lovingly on the forehead, Thranduil said, "He will be great. After all, he is the Prince of Mirkwood. He is my son."

Meanwhile, Prince Legolas slept the night away, not knowing whatsoever what lay in store for him. All he knew was his father's warmth, his father's flowing voice.


	5. A Mother's Sacrifice

Chapter Five

He awoke with a stir, the chill of the early morning air making him draw the blankets closer to his body. It was times like these, the day after a rough night, when he truly appreciated the comfort of a warm bed. The last he remembered, Elrond had led him to this room, advising that he should get some rest. And soon his mind had flown away to the land of dreams, the thought of his Lady never far.

Thinking of his Queen, the King could not help but smile. And yet it pained him as well to imagine her suffering. If he could be put in her place and take up all her pain he would. If it meant that she would be safe.

Eyes half-closed, he was quite unaware of the presence of another in the room. "Good morning, Thranduil," came a voice. Startled, Thranduil reluctantly opened his lids to discover a tall, slender figure towering above him.

Elrond had come to greet his friend. He didn't speak to him for a time. He silently moved over to the window, his hands behind his back. A question gnawed at Thranduil's insides with the ferocity of a greedy beast. He grew more and more impatient as seconds went by. _Surely he must have news to give me. _He thought.

"Elrond…" Thranduil began. The Lord of Rivendell slightly turned to face him, the faint lines on his visage tight with a grave expression. He then let out a deep sigh, one which made Thranduil uneasy.

"If it is news of your wife that you wish to hear, so be it. It would be unjust for me to keep it from you. I have spent the entire night by her side, as you know. In that lengthy span of time I discovered something… astonishing."

During the time Elrond paused to catch a breath, Thranduil waited miserably for him to finish. _He had to know_, and at this point he was preparing himself to hear the worst.

"It appears to me that the birth of your son was extremely hard on her. How to restore her waning strength is beyond me. It seems that she passed on a vital part of her soul-her very life-force, to your son during his birth. All newborns need a certain amount of energy to survive the first years, which they receive from both parents. It is rare for an Elf to require so much from its mother, enough for a part of her to be sucked out. This leads me to believe only one thing: your son is no ordinary one, Thranduil. At birth he has claimed the strength of a full-grown Elf. We can now presume with utmost certainty that he will grow into an Elf with great power."

Thranduil turned pale. "Do you mean," he choked, "that she cannot be saved? You have the knowledge of various cures…"

At this, Elrond smiled sadly, firmly replying, "She has already given herself for her son. As he took his first breaths in this world, he needed her energy. And she gave it to him without question. No, it was taken from her without her consent. She had no say in the matter. In the moment Legolas arrived on the grounds of Middle-earth Celabeth was as vulnerable as a turtle without its shell. What is done is done. It cannot be helped. We cannot alter the past, Thranduil. We cannot take back what is done."

Thranduil closed his eyes and tried to shut out what he was hearing. _We cannot take back what is done. _Elrond's words spelled out doom, and Thranduil wished he could efface them all.

"But there_ is_ a way to save her. The only way." Elrond's eyes lit up a bit with hope. Thranduil, whose tears began trickling down his cheeks like small streams, did not answer.

"She must take a ship into the Undying Lands. You _must_ let her go. She cannot stay here much longer," said Elrond, with urgency in his voice.

Weakly: "When? When does she have to leave?" Thranduil merely whispered as he spoke. He was torn inside, although he did not show it.

"As soon as a ship can be mustered. I will have the Elves of Rivendell build a ship in the coming weeks. Celabeth can ride it when it is ready."

It was happening all too fast for Thranduil. _How can things happen this way? _He kept his lament to himself as he continued to weep. Elrond quickly came to his side to offer what consolation he could. That this was what was best for her. That he hadn't been responsible for what had occurred. He had done nothing.

"You may go see her now, my friend. She asked about you and Legolas. She wishes to see you both."

Thranduil willingly got out of bed, rushing to get to whom he missed so dearly. He walked out so fast that he missed Elrond's words which were directed at him: "The time has come, Thranduil. It was wrong of you to deny the prophecy."

But Thranduil couldn't hear. He was too far away to hear; it was as if Elrond was talking to himself.


End file.
